


Two Times Drunk

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Brotp, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 11:45:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1939806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little drabble in two parts, bookends of a sort: how these two unlikely friends look out for one another when they're drunk.  References Brienne in a relationship with Catelyn Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Times Drunk

Brienne was sitting at the end of the long wooden bar, sipping slowly at a large mug of mead that she didn't really want but that Asha insisted she order anyway. Asha, as ever, was about three drinks ahead of her, and Brienne unfortunately recognized that volatile mood in her companion, where in the next five minutes she could just as easily be knocking some fellow onto his back to shag him as knocking some fellow onto his back to put an ax in him.

This particular occasion found Asha challenging some half-drunk chap to an arm wrestling competition. Brienne remained quietly watchful, all too cognizant of the potential for it to go badly. After a week of traveling with this pirate wench, she'd started feeling a little resentful at being stuck nursemaiding yet again. There was always the possibility that this would only end with someone or other losing a few coins betting on themselves, having a few laughs, and Brienne making sure that Asha staggers all the way to her room in one piece; it was just as likely that it would end with weapons drawn and the two of them cutting down a bunch of drunks, leaving a pile of coin on the bar that amounts to far more than they ordered, and riding out before any more trouble came their way.

She tossed back the rest of the mead, got up, and trudged over. She could see pretty clearly as she drew closer that this was a prime exhibit of Greyjoy's baffling style of foreplay with these sorts of folk; Asha emanated a kind of swaggering sexuality that Brienne was fortunately immune to, but in any given tavern or pub, there usually wasn't a man within fifty feet of her that wasn't fascinated.

"And what if I win?" she heard the huge fellow asking, as she drew nearer the table.

"I'll shag you," she said.

His companions, who were similarly huge, shaven-headed, loudmouth tavern rats, let up a cheer.

"And what if you win?"

Asha pointed to a pretty, smooth faced teenage boy waiting the tables, and grins. "I'll shag him."

The tavern rats let up another cheer.

They were gripping each others' hands over the table, planting their feet, preparing to do the thing. Asha noticed Brienne standing over them, looking annoyed. "Hullo, wench," she exclaimed cheerfully. "I'm about to take this man's money and then shag the bar-boy."

Brienne looked back and forth between them and then settled on the man's face. "I wouldn't if I were you," she said to him menacingly. "You'll lose more than your money."

Both Asha and the drunk man were curious as to where she was going.

Brienne leaned down, closer to the man's face, which reeked of drink. "Last fellow she arm wrestled like this... She took his arm clean off. She's part kraken, you know."

He started to laugh, but he was clearly a little unnerved by the deadly seriousness in her face.

"Spiked tentacles," Brienne went on. "She hides them under her armor. They'll pierce you clear through at the shoulder and then... POP! Right off, like a doll's arm." She was completely deadpan and terrifying.

The fellow was trying to keep smiling but Brienne was clearly scaring him, and Asha was caught between irritation and amusement. After a moment of hesitation, he begged off and slunk away, followed by the jeering of the tavern rats.

"Greyjoy," Brienne began irritably.

"Killjoy," Asha replied.

"I'm tired of having to look after you," Brienne complained.

"You don't. I can take care of myself."

"Yes, you can ...And yet I have been dragged into how many brawls on this trip alone? Three?"

Asha snorted. "First one didn't count. I didn't start that one. I just finished it."

"We finished it," Brienne corrected.

"We did, Evenstar, and it was fucking brilliant. When you were up on the table and you kicked that pitcher of ale into that bastard's face and knocked him clean to the floor? Fucking brilliant."

"Greyjoy, do you understand what you just did?" Brienne demanded. "You paid me a compliment. How bloody drunk are you?"

Asha laughed. "Quite. So what?"

"So, how about we make it a night where you stumble back to your room instead of brawling?"

"Well, I was going to try and shag that idiot but you scared him off."

"Yes, I did. He was an idiot. And you're betrothed." Brienne grabs Asha's arm. "Come on, Greyjoy. No shagging. No fighting. For once, let's just turn in before the bloody sun comes up."

Asha was visibly annoyed, but she stood up, rejecting Brienne's assistance with a wry, "Sweetling, I didn't know you cared so."

Since their rooms were at opposite ends of the inn, Brienne walked with Asha back to her room.

"I don't need a chaperone, you know," Asha says.

"Of course not."

"You can go to bed, big woman."

"I will."

"In your own room."

"Not for all the Lannisters' gold would I think of bedding you." Brienne rolled her eyes. Even if she didn't dream every night of Catelyn waiting at home for her, it would have required some truly extraordinary circumstances for her to begin to consider laying down with this insane and frankly questionable woman.

They reached Asha's door. Brienne shoved it open and gestured Asha inside. Asha leaned in the doorjamb. "What, no kiss?"

Brienne knew perfectly well that Asha shared her total lack of sexual interest and that anything she said to imply otherwise was simply an attempt to annoy Brienne. And it used to work, when Brienne's skin was a bit thinner. "Piss off, Greyjoy. See you in the morning, whenever that is," Brienne grumbles, and slams the door in her face.

**************

Then there was the night at Castle Windmoor; Lord Farlowe was an old ally of Selwyn Tarth's and had agreed to receive Brienne and her traveling companion. While Brienne was circumspect with regard to how much she wanted to reveal about their purpose in passing that way, Farlowe was happy to host them, and insisted on opening up the larder. Brienne tried to tell him that it wasn't necessary, but Asha was pleased. Especially when she saw the large cask of wine get wheeled into Castle Windmoor's Great Room.

"Please be bloody civilized for once in your life," Brienne growled under her breath.

"As always," Asha laughed.

Brienne was not comforted.

But nonetheless, Asha was actually on the best behavior she'd ever seen. She told a few dirty jokes and forgot to keep her profanity in check, but then again, you might as well ask her to stop breathing as ask her to stop swearing. Farlowe and his sons were entertained by her stories and when they decided to bring some musicians in, she dragged a few of the Farlowe boys around the floor. Greyjoy was, surprisingly, actually a far better dancer than Brienne, who had never quite got the hang of it, even with Catelyn's patient instruction.

Of course, that could be because Catelyn's dancing lessons often got derailed early and ended in them lying on the bed in their chamber, tugging at each other's clothes and covering each other with kisses.

Watching Farlowe and his lady laughing at the head of their table, and Asha dragging his sons about the dance floor while they quibbled over who was leading, Brienne suddenly felt lonelier for Cat than she had since they left Tarth. And, feeling like she was in safe company for the first time since they'd lit out, she allowed herself to lose track of her wine consumption.

She had wandered out to the terrace outside the Great Room, looking out at the vast, flat marshes beyond the castle. If she squinted, it could almost look like the sea. The floor seemed a little unsteady, so she parked herself at a stone table and propped her head up on her hand; her head felt quite heavy and it was really asking too much of her neck at the moment.

She clumsily dug into the neckline of her armor and found the pendant that she wore, always. Catelyn had its match; the Tully fish, surrounded by the moon and stars of House Tarth. She comforted herself with the thought that Evenfall Hall would be well taken care of in Catelyn's hands. But tonight was just going to be one of those nights when she was painfully aware of how much she missed her. She began to weep quietly into her cup of wine.

Or rather, she thought she was weeping quietly.

Asha had come and found her, and placed a hand on her back. "Sssshh, Evenstar, they're going to hear you making such a racket."

Brienne started upright in her seat, and almost fell out of it. "Seven Hells!" she grunted, clutching at the edges of the table to keep herself straight.

"You've got some nerve, you know, lecturing me to be civilized and then dragging your drunken ass out here to weep into your cups with these great bellowing sobs of yours," she began, not hiding her annoyance. "Pull yourself together, wench, it's making you uglier than usual." Brienne didn't reply, so Asha prodded, "Come on, Evenstar, what in the name of the gods is wrong with you?"

Brienne looked at her angrily, trying unsuccessfully to rein in her sniffling.

Asha then noticed the pendant sitting on the outside of Brienne's armor, and realized. She was drunk, and missing her lady. In fact, Asha could not recall having seen her this drunk before. And while Asha had no such similar longing for her own betrothed, that hamfisted Iron Island lordling, she thought she understood, at least intellectually. What Brienne had with Catelyn was, funnily enough, the closest thing Asha had ever seen to a love that resembled the ones in the great ballads; while she would not admit to envying them, the affection between Brienne and her Lady Catelyn, the way they seemed to have cleaved to one another, did not escape her notice. She softened her tone, so slightly that anyone who didn't know her well would probably not notice.

"Right, big woman, let's get you to your chambers before you make an embarrassment of us both. Come on, then."

She discreetly flagged down a serving lad to escort them to the room Farlowe had prepared for her.

"I don't need an escort," Brienne protested, leaning on Asha's arm too heavily, while acting as if she wasn't.

"Of course you don't. You're bloody fine, you enormous drunk."

"I could still beat your ass in a fight right now."

Asha grunted at the effort of supporting too much of Brienne's weight. "If you ever make me do this again, we shall find out. You are far too big and that armor is far too heavy for this shite."

She settled Brienne in the bed. Sort of. Her enormous frame sort of flopped across it sideways, feet hanging over the side.

"Don't shag any of Farlowe's sons," Brienne orders, struggling to make her tongue shape the words.

The serving lad was still standing there, gawking.

Asha turned on him. "What? Off with you! Her ladyship needs rest." He scampered away obediently. She turned back to Brienne, who was increasingly nearer to sleep. "The shame of it is, you're missing a lovely party."

Brienne emitted a muffled moan.

She unbuckled Brienne's breastplate and set it beside the bed.

Brienne began to snore.

Asha sighed, made a great show of being disgusted with her companion, though for whose benefit the show was, it was unclear, and grumbled, "Alright, you sorry sop. Sleep well, and dream of your lady's red hair and soft tits, eh, big woman?"

She pulls the heavy door shut and heads back down to the Great Room, preparing Brienne's excuse.


End file.
